


Blood red sunset upon a glittering sea

by Bluethenstaub



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Battle of Thermophylae, Don't want to write a battle? Use the Hobbit sollution!, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens), Tumblr Prompt, You can have a War without War because she's not in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 07:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluethenstaub/pseuds/Bluethenstaub
Summary: Sometimes Below tells you to go to places, sometimes it goes horribly wrong, sometimes you meet an angel. Sometimes that's a good thing.





	Blood red sunset upon a glittering sea

**Author's Note:**

> That title sounds way too big for such a small ficlet. Whatever. Enjoy.

In all his years on Earth, Crowley had to make some real efforts to tempt people. Sometimes this meant that he had to take a job and do what you were supposed to do in this job.

That's why Crowley was currently a tailor's apprentice. But not just some tailor's apprentice, no. He was the apprentice of the personal tailor of Xerxes.

It was a good job. Crowley was near court, but far away from the battles.

It could have been so easy if only his boss's boss hadn't decided to take the land route to Athens. And that they had to move through the Thermopylae for that. Naturally, the Greek city-states weren't so happy about that and sent their own men to protect them. To make it even worse, they had sent the Spartans. Crowley hated the Spartans. Every time he heard about them, it was war-related.

Not even the food was good over there!

Of course, Xerxes' men weren't to fight only against Spartans, but the Spartan king oversaw the whole thing.

And Crowley? What role had a simple tailor's apprentice in this? Well, he had drunk too much in the last night, and ended up in armour and with a sword, fighting for the Persians.

Why hadn't he miracled himself out of the situation? Some might say that the answer to this was ineffable. Some might say that Crowley was just very stupid when he had been drunk that night. Some might say that he was even more drunk than normal and that he only realized what was happening when he sobered up, he was in armour, and he was in the middle of a fight. Maybe it was all of this.

Crowley wasn't bad at fighting with a sword, he had to admit. He managed not to get killed, after all. Maybe he would manage five more minutes fighting before he could run off.

There might be a chance that his people from Downstairs watched the whole thing. And if they saw Crowley fighting: good. If they didn't: well, it's not like he had killed anyone. As if that was possible. Those people were Spartans, they had spent more time training in the last 30 years than Crowley eating in the last 2000 years.

And Crowley was just a little snake. He was a demon, yes, but he had never been one of the fighting kind.

Crowley was just about to leave the battle and go back to minding his own business when he saw a familiar face smiling down at him.

As much as you were able to see a face wearing one of those helmets. But he knew the smile, he knew the smell, even among thousands of humans.

"So? Sparta, angel?" Crowley asked and lowered his sword. The humans would not manage to hit either him or Aziraphale.

"Yes, orders from Above," Aziraphale answered.

"The armour suits you."

"Why, thank you. I think the helmet is a bit too much, but I really like how the chest plate shines." Aziraphale was right. It shone like anything. It shone so much that it reflected the sun right onto Crowley's own armour. Speaking of which, who was the poor soul who wasn't able to find their armour this morning since Crowley was wearing it? Anyways, it was getting hot out here.

"The spear is a bit ridiculous. I never understood why they use it instead of the classic swords."

Aziraphale laughed. "Oh, certainly not to compensate for anything, if you know what I mean. It's strategic. You can hurt your enemy with it before they hurt you. It's pretty much useless after a first attack, though."

Crowley did not know what Aziraphale meant. "But you're both wearing armour."

"Ah," Aziraphale said. "I forgot. You've never been much of a fighter."

"Nope. Never was. I'm actually a tailor right now. Apprentice."

"Figures. That explains why you're so pale around the nose. How did you end up with a sword?"

"Oh, that's a long story. So, it started when-"

But Aziraphale wouldn't hear what had happened. Everything around Crowley went dark.

 

***

 

When Crowley opened his eyes, he saw the sunset. Or was it sunrise? He had no idea.

Slowly, all his senses came back to him. Some kind of animal was walking over his head. His head was resting on something soft. Moss? The smell of blood, the desperation of many deaths was everywhere, but... that was the strange thing, it was in the distance.

"Finally awake again?" A soft voice asked, soft like... like something very soft.

"Ugh," Crowley answered.

"You're lucky, my dear. You've slept through the whole battle. Does it count as sleeping if you're unconscious? Anyways, I'm glad you're up again."

"What happened?" Carefully, with Aziraphale's help, Crowley sat up. His head had rested on Aziraphale's lap, and the angel had let his fingers run through Crowley's hair, while he had read in an old scroll. He had taken off that ridiculous armour.

They sat on a cliff, the sea not too far in the distance. The sun reflected on the water, making it glitter like countless diamonds. It was beautiful.

"You've fainted right into my arms," Aziraphale answered, resting a warm hand on Crowley's back. "I don't know why. You should be used to situations like this."

Yes, he should. He was a demon, after all. Pain and misery was his business. And yet, every death always hit him with the full force of emotions. Every suffering wanted to make Crowley cry. Every battle wanted to make him vomit until his stomach was empty.

He should be used to that by now.

When Crowley didn't answer, Aziraphale continued. "I'll take it that you're to blame? Your side has won, of course. 300 Spartan hoplites won't return home anymore. And the 7000 other men who followed them won't return home either. Even more people from your side have fallen. The battle - no, massacre - it... lasted for two days. And you’ve been unconscious for four."

"And you, angel? What role did you play?" Crowley answered quietly. Did he massacre the people as God wanted?

"Don't be silly, dear boy. I had to take care of you. I can't let you get discorporated just like that. Think of the paperwork. If anyone's going to discorporate you, it's going to be me. But why would I do that when you're unconscious?"

Crowley's eyes wandered from the sea to the angel. Why indeed? "You never kill me when I'm conscious either. I'm awake now." He smiled.

Aziraphale made no move to grab for his sword, instead, he started petting Crowley's hair again.

"The last time you came close to discorporate me was back in Babylon when you wanted to show me all your favourite restaurants and made me eat so much that I almost burst."

Aziraphale blushed and waved his hands. "Don't be silly, dear. That never happened."

"If you say so. An angel would never lie, after all."

"No, he would not."

Both faced the sea again, watching the sun go down. Only when the first stars illuminated the sky, Aziraphale spoke again. "You know, Crowley, if you really wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes as fainting into my arms. You could just have said a word."

"What? I- I- No- That- Shut up!"

Aziraphale only smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](flashbastardwithsunglasses.tumblr.com)


End file.
